The Alliance
by sunrei-flopears
Summary: When one fox sets out to destroy all of Mossflower, it is up to three unlikely heroes to try and stop him. r/r is welcome (and appreciated ^^') *Chapter 3 is up-I tried to get it up faster this time ~^*
1. 1Book One: The Alliance

Book One: The Alliance

__

No stories are the same

all have a different plot

old or new, happy or sad,

a choice tellers have not.

Three travelers from abroad

from mountains, sea and marsh

with histories quite similar

their futures are rather harsh.

All orphaned by one fox,

death is soon to come

yet the trio must prevail

a task too hard for some.

Trust is hard to come by,

impossible I fear,

but if they don't believe in it,

Redwall's fall is near.

Prologue

Abbot Aren hummed a quiet tune to himself as he cross the Abbey grounds and approached the gatehouse. He folded his arms into his robe and took a deep breath, closing his eyes in the process. Exhaling slowly, he smiled and opened his eyes. Nearly crashing into the gatehouse due to his walking with his eyes closed, he inhaled sharply and took a jump back, amidst the laughter of Sister Sage, the Recorder. Frowning, Abbot Aren straightened his glasses as Sage regained her composure.

"Ab..Abbot Aren, hello! What brings you here this morning?"

The old mouse frowned, and cleared his throat. "Well, I realized that today was a perfect day. The sun was shining down on our proud abbey; there wasn't a cloud in the sky, millions of strawberries growing plump in the field. Which reminds me, isn't it about time to pick them? It must be just about time-"

"Abbot Aren," Sister Sage interrupted, "you were saying?"

"Hmm? Oh, oh, yes... Well, realizing that it was such a grand day outside, I thought to myself, the Dibbuns deserve to hear a story. Then I recalled that it was only yesterday I promised those little ones that the next day such as this one that we had I would tell them a story they'd never forget. Now, unless I'm becoming forgetful in these old days, the Dibbuns are in this gatehouse waiting for me, are they not?"

Sister Sage smiled and opened the door to the gatehouse wider to show a group of five mousebabes, a molebabe, and a squirrelbabe. Seeing their Abbot, the seven young ones jumped up and rushed to their elder. "Abbot Awen! Abbot Awen! You tell us stowy?" The squirrelbabe had climbed onto the Abbot's shoulders and was pulling on his ears. The kind old Abbot gently reached up for the squirrel and held him in his arms, smiling to the other six. "Indeed, yes, I will tell you a story. This story is about a group of three unlikely heroes, a young shrew, hare, and otter, each with a history not unlike the other, and a future very much alike. None were from this abbey, yet this trio would ultimately protect it. Three orphans and three warriors, their story is about to unfold."

And then the Abbot began to reveal the tale of a trio of friends, destined to save three peaceful groups.

1

Lord Oneye ran a single paw over the hundreds of carvings covering the wall that stood before him. His gaze followed the picture of three hares approaching a badger sitting in a throne, and then walking off into the forests of Mossflower. His gaze halted on the next image, and his single eye became misted over. None of the hares returned to his mountain home.

He ran a paw over his eye and left the room. He had spent the better of an hour in this room of carvings, studying each one until he felt he would die if he stood in that position for another hour or so. It wasn't the carvings that tired him; if anything, viewing the messages they told him was exasperating. Shaking his head, he sat down in his throne and awaited the arrival of Slick and Marisol de Quickfleet, his most trusted hares.

Swiftpaw de Quickfleet was sitting on his bed, watching his parents rush about his room. Both were hastily packing their haversacks, his mother busying herself with blankets and bandages, his father with food and drink. Swiftpaw kicked his feet back and forth, waiting impatiently for his parents to hurry and making some rather rude comments under his breath. Finally, after what seemed like decades of packing to Swiftpaw, Marisol and Slick were ready to talk to Lord Oneye, the badger lord of Salamandastron.

Swiftpaw looked about his room. He had no idea of what he and his family were going to be doing over the next few weeks or how long they would be gone, but due to the gray emptiness of his room, he knew they were going to be gone for a long time. He did, however, have an idea of where his family was traveling to; a wonderful place called "Redall Habbey", where you got to eat the best food for as long as you wanted to. Squirming with glee, Swiftpaw pulled himself down off the bed and ran out of his room to catch up with his parents.

Slick de Quickfleet had gotten his name for a reason, and his wife lived up to it just as well. The two went shooting through the fortress, arriving at the throne room in record timing. Whether Swiftpaw had inherited double speed genes, was "inspired" by his name, or was just fast due to the fact that he wanted to be fast, remained a mystery, but despite the fact that he left so much later than his parents he arrived around the same time as them, give or take a few seconds.

Lord Oneye had been dozing as he waited for his friends. Hearing a small knock at the door, he opened his right eye and yawned, flexing his muscles. Straightening himself up, he called out to the visitors in his booming voice, "Enter!"

Slick pushed the door open, beckoning for his wife and son to follow him in. Marisol calmly followed her husband in, but Swiftpaw immediately took off for the Lord. Marisol gasped and reached out for her son but, as he was at least twice as fast as she was, missed him by a mile. Swiftpaw ran up to Lord Oneye and catapulted onto his lap, landing on it with a dull thud. Lord Oneye glared at Swiftpaw with a reproaching look. Swiftpaw, recognizing that Oneye was playing around right away, frowned right back at him.

"Word," he said, "me finks you jolly well better tell me mummy and daddy when we going!"

Lord Oneye glared at Swiftpaw and Swiftpaw glared right back at him, in a sort of staring game. Lord Oneye broke first, grinning and slapping Swiftpaw on the back. "Har har, Swiftpaw, how can I refuse to answer such a well put question? Well, Slick, I need you to leave as soon as you can- I trust you've already packed- and travel to Redwall, as you already know. Now then, what you don't know is why you're going. What you must do is tell the good creatures of Redwall to raise their guard. A large horde of vermin is traveling their way, and if they're not warned soon.." Oneye took a deep breath. "Just go."

Slick exchanged a glance with Marisol, who nodded. Slick then, in turn, nodded to Oneye. "All right, Oneye, we're on our way."

***

Rutter sat on the banks of the River Mossflower. He muttered a few curses under his breath, quiet enough so that the seemingly hundreds of otter babes in the water before him didn't hear. Aye, wouldn't that be awful, having the whole tribe on his back for teaching the otter babes colorful new language. It was bad enough having to baby-sit all the young ones while everyone else got to forenge for food and supplies, but it would be worse if he had to forenge for food and supplies alone, a most depressing punishment.

Rutter counted all the babes, to be positive they were all there. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven... Rutter frowned. There should have been nine. Sure, Willow had gone with her Mom to gather fish, but that meant that there should still be eight. Counting and re-counting, Rutter still got the same number-seven otter babes where there should be eight. Groaning in frustration, Rutter decided to count off using names this time. Millie, Tiller, Skitter, Water Lilly, Rapido, Iggy, Eugene...

"Rawhide!"

The young otter jumped and fell out of the tree he was hiding in, jumping up and saluting.

"Aye, aye, Rawhide's a-portin' for duty, sah!"

Rutter set his jaw and walked over to Rawhide, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. "Why you little-" Rutter was cut short when an arrow caught him in his side.

Rawhide stared at the arrow in shock. The young otter had been hiding in the tree watching three weasels scamper about the opposite bank, thinking they were playing some kind of game. But even a young otter can realize when something is not a game, and when something has gone dreadfully wrong, and seeing death right before his very eyes made Rawhide's instincts immediately kick in.

"HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!"

From the tribe's cave, the woods, and the river, otters began to pour onto the scene. Rawhide scampered into the cover of the bushes and watched the scene that turned him from innocent otter babe to hard-core adolescent.

By the time the forengers had returned from their gathering, all the old ones and young ones had been killed by vermin. The whole camp was overridden by weasels, stoats and foxes, and every time another otter entered the camp they were killed by vermin arrows. Rawhide's spirit lifted as he saw his mother and father run past the bush, calling out Rawhide's name, and, his hopes risen for a brief moment, he was about to run out and cling to them. However, before the babe had a chance to do so, his parents were shot down like the rest of the tribe, and Rawhide lost what little sense of control he had.

"THAT'S MY MOM!" He shot out of his cover like a bullet out of a gun, barreling himself into the side of a fox with a large rip in his left ear. The fox snarled and turned on the otter, throwing him against the tree. Rawhide found himself panting as he tried to pull himself up, only to be pulled up and thrown against the tree once more, held there by the fox. The fox glared at the otter, snarling at him.

"You stupid otter," he snarled, "how dare you attack a beast so much stronger and wiser than you?!" He emphasized his words by slamming Rawhide against the tree, giving him a rather large headache. "I'll make you regret ever dealing with the likes of Ripear!" The fox picked up his paw, which had a silver glove with five inch claws sticking on it, and dragged it over the left side of the otter's face, leaving a long cut from his forehead down to his cheek. Panting, the otter held back tears, and the fox got a look of mock pity on his face. 

"Aw, mateys, looks as if the poor baby is in pain. Should we wash off that nasty old cut for him?" This comment was returned with a round of "ayes!" and "throw him in the river!" Rawhide was now shaking with fear, and as Ripear held him over the river, Rawhide's eyes widened with terror. Ripear's eyes narrowed about as much as Rawhide's widened. "Goodbye, otter babe." And with that, Ripear dropped the bleeding otter into the river rapids.

***

Swiftpaw was sitting against a tree at the edge of Mossflower, waiting for his parents to catch up. He gratefully lapped up the shade of the tree, having just crossed the desert between Mossflower and Salamandastron in record timing for one of his age. He tapped his foot in the air as he began to fall asleep. His nose twitched as his long ears fell onto it, tickling him and making him sneeze. Twitching his nose once more, he yawned and began to doze off, his parents nowhere in sight.

***

At the moment, the only emotion Marisol felt was fear. She was fearful for her life, for the lives of the poor creatures of Redwall, and mainly for the life of her son, Swiftpaw. She had been careless and even stupid to let him run ahead and get out of her sight. She was paying dearly for her mistake, as she was now more worried than she had ever been in her entire life.

As Marisol lay hidden in the hollow of a tree, she knew she needed to fine her son. As the grass below her turned red with blood, she pulled an arrow protruding at an odd angle from her shoulder. She knew her time to fine Swiftpaw was rather limited, and that she'd soon join her husband at the Gates of Dark Forest. Oh, the irony of it all; Marisol had gone on this mission to warn Redwall of an ambush, but instead had been ambushed by the very vermin that she and Slick were sent on this journey about.

Marisol sighed as she heaved herself with great pain out of the tree. Taking one last hopeful look at her haversack, she ripped off the strap, tying it around her shoulder to staunch the bleeding. Taking a shaky, deep breath, she headed east to Redwall, the last mission she'd ever take part in.

***

Swiftpaw awoke with a start. Judging by the absence of light, he assumed he had fallen asleep for almost half a day. The young hare found himself trembling with fear, not only from being alone but from his dream, or rather, his nightmare. An armor clad mouse had appeared with his father, telling him to "head west to you goal." The nightmare part of his dream was when he realized his father was covered in silver blood and had hundreds of arrows protruding from his back. As tears welled up in Swiftpaw's eyes, he jumped up, gathered his supplies, and set off in the direction the mouse had pointed him in. If his mom was still alive, that's where she'd be headed, and that's where Swiftpaw would be waiting.

***

Gilde sat on the banks of the River Moss, watching her father build boats. Of course, other shrews were helping out besides her father- Log-a-Log, Durm, Tidbal, Sparce, and just about all the other male shrews. However, in Gilde's eyes only her father was important, because he was the one piecing together the boat.

Despite the fact that Gilde was little older then the shrewbabes, she had already taken an interest in boatmaking. She had never quite understood the arguing antics of her fellow young shrews, when she was only a week old up until now. Yet the moment she had first seen the older shrews begin to build a bat, she fell in love, and sat watching them build everyday afterwards.

Gilde sat on a log not too far from where the young ones were playing. Their antics were quite typical, running back and forth while arguing and fighting. Gilde kicked her feet back and forth, leaning out far over the side of the log- she had long since been ignoring the others, knowing that they'd not bother her unless she bothered them first. Of course, this didn't always work.

As Gilde kicked her feet back and forth, she heard a few shrews behind her giggle. Choosing to ignore them, she leaned out over the side of the log a little more, feeling something graze along her neck and back, striking somebody in front of her. Frowning, she spun around and found herself staring at a large blue fox, with a large rip through his left ear. Gasping, Gilde fell over the back of the log and crawled under it, then ran through the fox's legs and into the woods to safety.

While Gilde was running to the cover of some underbrush, others in her camp were not so lucky. Indeed, half of the Guosim had been killed, including most of the babes, before anyone knew they were being attacked. Ripear walked slowly with his head held high towards the shrew tribes' chieftain, Log-a-Log. As he walked, shrews fell around him before they could strike him with their little rapiers. Upon reaching the leader, Ripear held up a paw and at least five hundred vermin leaped out from undercover, surrounding the shrews with longbows pulled taut. Ripear stared at Log-a-Log before announcing, "Kill him."

Five hundred arrows shot at Log-a-Log at the same time. They could not have possibly missed.

***

Swiftpaw was hopelessly lost. Mossflower was so big, and every tree looked the same after you passed millions and millions of them. Hungry and tired, he sat on a stump and took out his haversack. Reaching for a glass of cordial and a chunk of bread, he began to think about how much farther he had to go when he heard someone moan not too far from his current spot.

Swiftpaw tensed up as the moan came once again. Abandoning his meal, he approached the moan cautiously. Pushing the leaves apart, he saw a full grown hare in front of him covered in blood- to be quite honest, the hare resembled his mother more than a little. Sure enough, a closer look confirmed that the hare was none oher than Marisol de Quickfleet.

Swiftpaw let out a weak gasp. Frozen to the spot, he looked at his mother, revolted that anybody would do such a horrid thing to a fellow creature. Walking up behind her, he prodded her carefully with his foot. "Mum?"

His mom rolled over and looked up at her son in confusion. Swiftpaw's eyes filled with large tears as he repeated his question, this time with more confidence. "Mum?!"

Marisol's eyes slid in and out of focus a few times before she concentrated on the face of her son. "Swiftpaw?" she said, faintly and weakly.

The leveret's ears perked up as he threw his arms around his mom. "Oh, Mum, shouldn't 'ave gotten ya self bally lost like that, ya end up scarin' an old chap out of his bloomin' mind. Wot 'appened?"

Marisol take a few deep breaths before answering her son. "Well, as ya should jolly well know, your pater and I decided t'let ya run on ahead, so we could decided how t'tell the Abbey of the danger. Foolishly, although fortunately, we let y'out o'our bally sight and by the time we realized it, y'were so far ahead we could've never reached ya. So, I suggested that we make a jolly old fire and somehow signal t'you, which worked very well surprisingly- unfortunately, it signaled the wrong jolly old creature, wot." Here, Marisol paused to catch her breath before continuing on.

"Well, it all seemed to be goin' great for a while. We had a jolly old smoke signal signalin' up t'you, an' it was growin' larger by the moment. We heard a yell come from behind us, and then..." Marisol sniffled and set her jaw. "We were surrounded. We didn't stand a chance. At least 200 arrows flew out at us. Your dad threw me t'the ground and every arrow struck him. He died right there on the bally spot, an' I ran off as fast as these legs would carry me, receiving this single arrow in my shoulder. Swiftpaw, I'm afraid your pater is dead, and that I'm slowly joining him thanks t'the bally scoundrel of a fox, Ripear Bloodfang."

Swiftpaw gawked at his mother. He had just discovered that his dad was dead, and now his mom was going to die when they had almost reached Redwall. Furrowing his brow, Swiftpaw began to think and quickly got an idea. He began to gather some fallen branches, covering them in leaves. Dragging it to his fallen mom, he hoisted her up onto it. Panting, he made sure she was settled in safely before he began to pull her to Redwall.

Swiftpaw kept at his hauling for the rest of the day and most of the night. He kept at it until he reached the path that led to Redwall's west entrance. By now, Swiftpaw was fatigued and exhausted, and was long passed needing a break. Looking to his mother, who's chest was rising and sinking much slower now, he was suddenly filled with renewed energy and hauled his mother much faster now. As Swiftpaw dragged his mom onward, he swore to himself that he'd have his revenge on his parents' murderer, Ripear Bloodfang, or at least die trying.


	2. 2

Disclaimer: As this is a FANFICTION, which implies that this is FICTION written by a FAN, which implies that this is NOT written by the actual AUTHOR, which implies that I did NOT create Redwall, I think it's safe to say that I am not making any money off any of these ideas, and only those characters that have not been mentioned in ANY books (Specifically Swiftpaw, Rawhide, Gilde, and Ripear, but not limited to those four) are 0wned by me. Hmm, and those characters you do notice, well, they're all copyright to Brian Jacques. Those places you recognize too... Oh heck, let's save the rambling for the Author's Note, shall we?   
  
Author's Note: Erm, well, needless to say, I am a procrastinator. It's true, it's true, I admit it; this hare is the biggest procrastinator I bet you'll meet. Put that together with a busy schedule (timetable) and writer's block, and you'll find that these chapters take FOREVER to get out. I promise, PROMISE PROMISE PROMISE, that I'll try to get over my procrastinating and do this story in my spare time, and make these chapters worth the wait, in both content and length. Okay so like, maybe nobody reads these, but I'm still going to update because maybe like only one person does and is it really fair to make that one person wait for an update just because I'm a stupid no-self-confidence-what-so-ever freak?! Yeah, that's what I thought. And this whole plot? Erm, I realize now that the whole skipping-such-and-such-an-amount-of-seasons is kind of like Taggerung, but I mean, well I'm sorry, I'm not trying to rip off that book's plot or anything, 'cause the plots ARE rather different; that's just one event that's the same. So erm, I'm done ranting - FOR NOW - and here's the actual chapter. The time period? Taking place after Taggerung, but before Triss, I suppose. I dunno I haven't even read the book yet; maybe I'll tell you the REAL MORE EXACT time period NEXT chapter. Well, looks like I'm still rambling, so erm... I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY done now! ENJOY THE CHAPTER! ....Oh yeah, thanks for reviewing, Martina ^^;  
  
2  
  
Extract from the writings of Sybil Squirrel, Newly Appointed Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower Country.  
  
Such a dreary day it is. Even Mother Nature knows this; the birds have stopped singing, the sun has stopped shining, and all the plants have wilted. Alas, what can one expect; our recorder, Rosabel, has passed away.  
Out of respect, Skipper of Otters and Log-a-Log, leader of the Guosim shrews, have been informed. Skipper, I believe, is on his way with his otters to give his blessings right now, but Log-a-Log is nowhere to be found. I doubt, no, I know for a fact that the old shrew would never avoid Redwall, so I've gotten very worried. Said has told me I get too worked up over things and that Log-a-Log will be fine, but still, I can't help but hope the old bloke's okay...  
  
Sybil looked up from her pile of papers as someone knocked at the gatehouse door. Trying to look as important as possible, the young squirrel removed her half-moon spectacles from the bridge of her nose. "Now, who could that be?" she muttered under her breath to no one in particular.  
  
Tripping over unorganized papers scattered about the floor, Sybil put her full weight on the door and leaned on it. Being a young, weak squirrel and due to the strong, fast wind blowing against the door, she manages to only open the door a crack. Luckily for her, her visitor was a big, burly otter named Skipper, and he threw the door open with ease, almost knocking Sybil flat on the ground.  
  
"Ah, Skipper," Sybil said, trying to remain dignified. "What brings you here this fine day?"  
  
Skipper's left eyebrow shot up as he decided that Sybil was nuts. "Er, well, marm, I don' know what planet yer from, 'cause on this one, the weather is far from 'fine.' In fact, it's downright lousy. Not to mention that I know for a fact that you knew I was coming here today."  
  
Sybil blushed slightly, quickly coming up with an excuse for her question. "Well, um, I meant, why are you at the gatehouse?" Her voice was sounding more and more like that of a Dibbun's as she fumbled nervously with her bushy red tail.  
  
Skipper grinned, winking at the young squirrelmaid. "Well, I came here for he feast that's going on tonight, as long as there'll be hotroot soup!" His expression quickly turned grim. "But, the reason I've come to the gatehouse is because I need someone's assistance fast."  
  
Sybil looked confused as Skipper pulled her into the rain. "Wait- where are we going?" The squirrel's anxious words, however, were lost in the wind and rain.  
  
Sybil half ran and was half dragged over to the west wall. Slipping, she fell in the mud and was pulled up by Skipper. Taking advantage of this, she yelled, "What's wrong?" Skipper just shook his head in reply and got a stronger grip on the young recorder, shoving the west gate open.  
  
The pair was hit with such a strong gust of wind that Sybil was certain she'd have flown off into the night if it wasn't for Skipper's grip on her. Skipper continued to drag Sybil down the path to the south, against the force of the wind. Because of this, after ten minutes or so of fighting the gale the two had only traveled a few feet. So, it took them a while to reach their goal, and by that time, Sybil has grown very impatient.  
  
"Ski-ip, aren't we there ye-" Sybil's eyes widened as she saw what was laid out in front of her- a young hare and his blood-covered mother, both appearing to be dead.  
  
***  
  
Swiftpaw had traveled far that night and hadn't stopped until a large and violent storm had kicked in. Swiftpaw, unable to see anything, had gotten off course and got more lost than ever. Sighing, he looked for some shleter, deciding on a hollow space made of tree roots, and looked at his mother's still form.  
  
"Aye, mum, we're almost t'the Habbey of Redall. Just h-hold on a likkle l-longer, a'ight?" The responce Swiftpaw got was silence. After all, dead beasts are silent beasts.  
  
Swiftpaw yawned. "Hmm, I suppose resting here for the night is a jolly ol' sp-splendid p-plan... let's m-make camp, wot?"  
  
Swiftpaw dragged his mother's corpse under the roots of the large oak tree. Shivering something horrid, he gave a weak shudder and collapsed down next to her. He was shaking and panting from the cold and wet, already showing signs of a severe case of pneumonia. He cuddled up next to his mom and fell asleep shortly after.  
  
Now, Swiftpaw had been lying here asleep for only ten minutes when Skipper tripped over the roots of the makeshift shelter. He quickly grabbed hold of a root to pull himself to his feet, but as he rose he fell back down again, this tiem in horror. Underneath him lay two dead hares, or so he thought, until he noticed the leveret taking quick, shallow breaths. His eyes widening, he quickly ran off to grab some help from the close-by Abbey, where he found Sybil. Now, both were sitting in the small shelter, discussing their options.  
  
"Well, um... we should probably bury the mother here, you know, then just bring the babe back to Redwall..." Skipper's voice trailed off and the uncomfortable silence was resumed.  
  
A little time passed and the scene didn't change in the least. The hare slept on and the rain came down, and no ideas were foiced or thought. Skipper was staring at the sky, or at least in the direction of it, and Sybil's face was scrunched up as she stared at the ground, deep in concentration. Lightning struck, folowed by a deafening roar of thunder. and Sybil's head jerked up. "I've got an idea."  
  
Skipper's gaze slowly turned to the squirrel, giving her his full attention. His eyebrows rose, an interested look on his face. "Well, let's hear it."  
  
Sybil cleared her throat importantly. "Alright, you know that we're holding a ceremony for poor Rosabel's death, right? If we could somehow get the older hare back to Redwall, we could have a double parting ceremony. I mean, a good-bye feast in the name of Rosabel and the nameless hare! Then, the small one, I'll bring him up in the Abbey and be his adopted mother. We've got all the Abbey beasts to help, I'm sure he'll be fine! No, better than fine- he'll be the best Abbey beast there ever was!"  
  
Skipper gave a small smile and nodded, grabbing the dead hare and slinging her body over his shoulder. "Well, let's get going now."  
  
Sybil frowned. "It doesn't look like you need any he-" The squirrel's observations got cut short as the babe was thrusted in her arms and the pair was off again.  
  
The trip back to the Abbey was much easier and faster than the one to the hares. Due to the fast that the wind practically blew the four to the open gates, Sybil had no time to dwell on the question boggling her mind- where were the other otters? As soon as she and Skipper stepped into the Entrance Hall, Sybil shot her question at him.  
  
"Skip, where's your crew?" she opened the door to the infirmary, nodding to Brother Aren as she did so.  
  
"Well, they're out checking up on a nearby holt- Holt Odell. Seems some rotten fox attacked them, and now we're checking for any stranglers. Oh, Brother- what should I do with this?"  
  
Brother Aren's face paled as Skipper dropped his burden on one of the beds. Aren looked at Skipper as if he had just dumped a dead beast onto one of his clean dormitory beds- which, incidentally, he had. "What are you playing at, Skipper? She's not... not..."  
  
Skipper frowned. "Aye, she's a dead un. We're going to bury her with the recorder. Hold onter her until then?" Aren's mouth opened and closed wordlessly, causing Skipper to grin.  
  
"Thanks, Aren, yer a real mate!" Wailing cries from behind Skipper made bother him and the brother turn to face Sybil in confusion. Sybil grinned apologetically.  
  
"Sorry Brother, Skip, but the young one just woke up!"  
  
***  
Ripear was viewing the magnificent building of Redwall from atop a large hill. The fox was contemplating his options; he had heard of this building and its warriors. He had also hear it wasn't worth the trouble it caused. After all, it had no treasure hidden deep within it, and most warlords had failed to even get inside the area. Even then, the only reason these warlords had wanted the Abbey was as a fortress for their hordes. What did a group of wandering plunderers want with that old place? No, perhaps he could take over the rest of the country and then work on Redwall, but for now, it was doing him no harm just standing there, oblivious to the danger around it.  
  
Sighing, Ripear headed back to his tent at the base of the hill. His horde's encampment took up the whole clearing, and there wasn't much room to walk in. Mind, it was a decent sized clearing, not small yet not overly large, but because of the horde's size it was a tight squeeze. 900 beasts... Ripear would take the time now to travel to other lands and gather more vermin. After that, he could return to Mossflower, overthrowing the land easily. It was set at a convenient spot with Redwall at its center. The sea was close by, the mountains not too far off, and the amount of wood in this forest could mean an endless supply of buildings and ships. On top of it all, an unsuccessful season wouldn't mean that the horde had to go hungry, but a successful one would just add to the pleasure. Smiling at his cleverness, for although arrogant the fox was brilliant, he pushed open the flaps to his tent and walked in.  
  
Nightshade looked up from feeding her son. When she saw her visitor was Ripear, she quickly went back to her job, ignoring the warlord. Ripear removed his black gloves with the 5 inch silver claws, setting them on a hook attached to the tent's wall, then watched Nightshade, the black fox puposely avoiding his eyes. Suddenly, without warning, the blue fox reached out and grabbed the babe, receivign a death glare from his wife.  
  
"Hmm, he's kind of scrawny, isn't he." Ripear turned his son upside down, frowning. "I mean, he's probably going to be a-GAAH!" Waving his paw around, he threw the foxbabe across the room, a stream of blood flowing from his finger. Nightshade rushed to the wailing babe. "Hmm, then again, he could proove to be a worthy soldier in furture seasons, what with an attitude like that. You're lucky, son; you'll live to see another day, harr harr harr." Smirking, the fox grabbed his gloves and left to go address his horde, a vase barely missing his head as he walked out of the room.  
  
Captain Fleabit was trying to keep peace in the camp, but he was failing miserably. Having no battles or chances to plunder, the soldiers and footbeasts were turning against each other. Their leader had gone on a walk to think out things, and had been gone many days now. As a result, nobody knew what to do about anything. Already a score of beasts had been killed, and the chief wasn't going to like it. Looking around for help, Fleabit felt a weight lift off his chest as he saw Ripear walking towards him.  
  
Whenever Ripear passed the vermin, a wave of silence washed over them. Nobeast dare talk in his presence, and when he halted all beasts turned their gaze upon him. Hesitating, an uneasy tension rose amongst the beasts, broken only by Ripear's announcement.  
  
"Well, I have returned. I have thought up a plan worthy of discussion. I have had no aid from captains of visions; no, I come up with ideas from sheer brainpower. We will travel south soon to gather beasts and plunder, yet we will not take over any land. Instead, destroy all villages and take no prisoners. This land will be ours in later seasons, mateys, but for now we must prepare for the greatest battle you will ever see in your puny little lives. Pack what you need. We leave at sundown."  
  
Without any discussion, no noise at all, not a complaint from anybeast, the horde went to gather what few possessions they owned, and burn what they left behind.  
  
***  
  
Silence filled the Abbey as two caskets were lowered into the ground near the orchard. One held the squirrel Rosabel, and the other the nameless hare. Her son had been of little help; he seemed to have caught such a cold that all he remembered was his first name, Swiftpaw. He was now in the care of Sybil, who had already become his protective mother. As Swiftpaw watched his mother go down into the earth, he felt no pain, as this hare's role in his life was naught but a forgotten memory now. Indeed, it wasn't until 12 seasons later that Swiftpaw heard the name Ripear, and the memories of his past came flooding back in a maddening fury.


	3. 3

3  
  
It was as winter should be. No signs of green, yellow, red, or orange- just brown, white, and more white as far as the eye could see. No grass, no flowers, no leaves, just frozen ponds, abandoned nests, dead tress, and, most importantly, a silent winter wonderland.  
  
The beauty of Mossflower was lost on Redmond Wallfleur. As he walked through the snow-laden land he had only one thought in mind- to reach Redwall Abbey. Back in the days that he used to Long Patrol with hares like the de Quickfleets he had visited the abbey many a times. Indeed, as the old hare recalled their scrumptious trifles and delicious ales, he found himself drooling like an otter standing before a boiling pot of hotroot soup. However, the hare was long since finished with battles; ever since he lost Slick twelve seasons ago he had never quite returned to his normal self. It was Lord Oneye himself that suggested Redmond's early retirement at Redwall. The hare had done as his badger lord requested, but with a heavy heart; leaving for Redwall meant leaving his life behind him.  
  
Redmond supposed that life at Redwall would be better than life at Salamandastron. After all, it was the memories at Salamandastron that made him so upset. For twelve long seasons he dwelled on thoughts of hatred and revenge of the fox Ripear. Luckily the fox had left Mossflower, but like all evil warlords Redmond knew he'd return with a horde stronger and tougher than ever. At this moment, Redmond reached a bend in the road and caught a glimpse of Redwall in the distance. Sighing, he quickened his pace and ran towards the beautiful Abbey.  
  
Despite his foul mood, the sight of Redwall made Redmond's heart leap. His ears twitching, he began to sing a small ditty he and Slick had composed as young leverets, eager to upset the corporals with their "fantabulous singing expertise."  
  
"The best time of year would be winter time  
when all good beasts gather about  
'cause this is the time for snowball fights  
harmless fun I'd have to say now, wot?  
  
We advise you young weaklings to stay away from our game  
as only the strongest will survives.  
Indeed it's a test of true knowledge, ol' chap,  
as only the fittest'll be ali-ouch! I say, who's interruptin' me bally song now, wot?"  
  
Redmond spun around in a circle, glaring at the trees. On the top of his head was a snowball, situated in such a position that made his ears flop over and into his face. Frowning, the old hare looked for some beast but to no prevail. Instead, he was met by a mischievous giggle whose source was seemingly invisible.  
  
Struck by a sudden brilliance, Redmond looked up to the trees above him. Eyes widening, he suddenly wished he hadn't, since a red squirrel wearing a heavy white coat dropped down onto him.   
  
"Hiya misser!" The squirrelbabe smiled down at him from atop her perch on the hare's stomach. "I'ma Starlight, an' that's Mitzy o'er there." Starlight pointed behind Redmond, who tilted his head back, following her pointed claw. Unable to keep himself from smiling, he watched as a light brown mouse wearing a dark green cloak stepped out from behind a tree, giggling madly.  
  
'Hehehe, big rabbit is soso funny!" Skipping over, Mitzy jumped onto Redmond's stomach next to Starlight. Before Redmond could object to being called a rabbit, Mitzy pointed to yet another beast behind the hare, where she had been standing naught two seconds ago. "Lookee lookee it's Swiftpaw! Yay!" With that, the two babes jumped up and ran to this Swiftpaw character. Seizing the opportunity, Redmond got up and brushed the snow off him, turning to face his rescuer. Looking up, Redmond's eyes widened as he saw that his rescuer was an all too familiar hare.  
  
"Slick? Is that you? But I, when we hadn't seen or heard from you or Marisol, and no sign of Ripear, we thought you had died, I mean you had never sent anyone out to tell us, and we had no idea... my, you look like you haven't aged a bally bit, what's the secret there, ol' chap, what's your jolly ol' secret?" Redmond hopped over to Swiftpaw, clapping his paw down hard on the young hare's back. "Ah, either way, I'm glad I've found ya, m'jolly ol' mate, but, one question still boggles my mind; why didn't y'ever come back?"  
  
Swiftpaw had never been so confused in all his life. Here was a hare he had never seen before in his entire life that was calling him Slick and acting like the two were old friends. Slipping out of the hare's grip, Swiftpaw put his arms around the two babes he had been taking on a walk as a pre-Abbess's-birthdate feast festivity protectively. Raising his eyebrows, he looked the older hare up and down. "Well, sah, don' know who ya think I bally am, but I'll tell ya one thing, I do know I am NOT Slick. I don't even know who the bally character is! So, if you'll excuse us, we'll be headin' back ta Redwall now, wot wot!" Steering the Dibbuns in the direction of their home, he let out a groan as Starlight got away and ran back to Redmond.  
  
"Mistah Slick, you come wiv us?" Both hares were flabbergasted at this, though both in different ways. Beaming, Redmond nodded at the squirrel.  
  
"Of course I'd be jolly well delighted and honored, young marm, but m'name's Redmond, not Slick, doncha know." Grabbing the squirrel's paw, the two skipped off to Redwall, leaving an exasperated Swiftpaw staring after them, interrupted only by Mitzy's pulling on his arm.  
  
"Swiffpaw, me wanna go back ta da Abbey too, pweeez?" Smiling, Swiftpaw lifted the squirrel to his shoulders.  
  
"Alright, lil marm, let's go back to our home now!" Taking off after Redmond and Starlight, Swiftpaw added mentally to himself, _and hopefully we'll find out what this sah's playin' at!_  
  
  
  
Sybil sat on the uppermost area of Redwall. She had a marvelous view of all of Mossflower, feasting on its beauty. But she hadn't come up as far as she had to bask in the beauty of her homeland; if anything, the squirrel had wanted time alone to think of what she should do now. Sighing, she grabbed a pawful of snow, sifting it between her claws to the grounds far below her. Upon hearing somebeast yell out, Sybil was momentarily brought back to reality. A few moments later after the yell, a white squirrel poked her head over the edge of the area Sybil sat on. Clearing her throat annoyingly, the squirrel shook her head, revealing a glossy black furred head. Attempting to smile apologetically, the only look Sybil could manage was a grimace. The black squirrel settled herself down next to her friend, frowning deeply. "Sybil, what's wrong? You look like a mother mouse whose child was just stolen by vermin!" Suddenly the black squirrel's eyes widened, her paws flying up to her mouth. "Swiftpaw's okay, right?"  
  
Sybil sighed, turning to the other squirrel. "Saish, it's not like that. It's just... well, Martin said that, that... oh Saish, it's... time!" Sybil buried her face in her paws, shaking with grief.  
  
Saish rose an eyebrow, thoroughly confused. "Uh, Sybil... what's wrong? I mean... it's time... for what?"  
  
Sybil mumbled quietly, half to herself, "It's time for me to tell Swiftpaw. But, Saish, that can't be right, I don't know anything! So the only other choice is for Swiftpaw to go out and find his history on his own outside of Redwall! Saish, I may never see him again..." Sybil buried her face deeper in her paws, unable to hold back her tears.  
  
Saish pat her friend's back, a sympathetic look on her face. "Oh, dear, you really are working up a tizzy about this. Sybil, even if Swiftpaw leaves he'll be back, in the flesh or in your dreams, like Martin. Just, well, you have to ell him what little information you DO know. Which reminds me, Raine was looking for you. She said something about a specific male otter, a great friend of yours, I believe his name was... Skipper?" Winking at her friend, Saish pointed to the grounds, where Skipper of otters was waving up to the two squirrels, a mere dot on the small grounds. Next to him stood the current Abbey warrior, a young mouse named Raine, who also served as the Abbey's "badgermum" to the young Dibbuns. Managing a small smile, Sybil hugged her friend and hopped down to the grounds. Unable to help herself, Saish grinned and called out, "Oh, right, just leave me up here to die of starvation!" laughing, Saish laid back and made herself comfortable, enjoying the rare peace and quiet.  
  
Skipper smiled at his friend and she landed silently in front of them as if she had never fallen in the first place. Winking, Sybil held out her arms. "Aw, y'great big lumberin' waterdog, come here!"  
  
Skipper made as if to hug the squirrel but, deciding against it, ruffled the fur on her head instead. Laughing as Sybil gave him a shocked and disapproving look, he threw her arms around her, hugging her so hard she was lifted off the ground. "Aw, mate, please forgive yer ol' otter mate, 'e was only playin' witcha!"  
  
Sybil frowned, concentrating hard. "Well, I suppose so, on one condition."  
  
Skipper fell to his knees, his paws clasped together. Shaking his paws, he begged Sybil to accept his apologies. "Aw, marm, please, I'll do anything!"  
  
Falling out of her joking manner and back to her serious one, Sybil clasped her small paws around Skipper's enormous ones. "Then please, please help me tell Swiftpaw he needs to go." Her huge, saddened brown eyes begged with Skipper's small black ones that slowly changed from confused to sympathetic and understanding.

"G-go? Why does he need to leave? What did he do? Oh wait, don't tell me- Martin said it was time?" Sybil nodded sadly, and Skipper broke into a grin. "Then that means he's got a purpose in life! C'mon, cheer up, let's talk to him now, eh?" Sybil half grinned, shrugging.

"Alright, alright, Swiftpaw should be back with Starlight and Mitzy any time now. That'll be a good time to talk to him." From the gate behind them came a knocking. Raine excused herself and opened the gate for the visitor. Standing before her was a hare and a squirrelbabe. The hare looked her up and down before coming to a conclusion.

"You must be Log-a-Log of the Guosim shrews. That makes me bally lucky, for I've been wantin' t'jolly well meet ya for the longest time, marm, wot wot!"

"Thaz no shoo thaz Rane!" Starlight giggled, jumping on Redmond's back and pulling his ears. Rane half-smiled as Redmond tried to wrestle the squirrel off. It was true; Raine did look almost exactly like a shrew. Her head fur was spiked in the same fashion as a shrew, and she was just about the same size. The only difference as that he warrior had the short snout of a mouse and the same slim build, while shrews tended to be stocky and have longer snouts.

Redmond raised an eyebrow, holding Starlight upside down by her tail. "Not a shrew, eh? Well then, in that case, I guess I'm not as jolly ol' enthralled to meetcha! M'name's Redmond, Redmond Wallfleur, and I've come from Salamandastron for an early retirement. No beast really minds, do they? I mean, I didn't exactly consider them, wot-"

Starlight had clamped a paw over her new friend's mouth. "You quiet now. Eat we do!"

Redmond's eyes lit up as he set the squirrel down. "Now y'said the bally magic word! Scoff! Let's go eat!"

As Redmond went inside, Swiftpaw stepped inside the open gates, shutting it behind him. "Ah, has an extremely ol' hare come-"

"Y'just missed him, Swiftpaw. Though he wasn't 'extremely old' like you call him. Why?" Raine replied, tilting her head. Swiftpaw shrugged.

"No good reason. I'm goin' ta-"

For the second time, Swiftpaw was interrupted, this time by Sybil. "Um, Swiftpaw… can me and Skip have a word with you," her she glanced to Skipper, who nodded for her to continue, "alone? Right now?"

Swiftpaw's ears perked up as he put Mitzy down and hopped over to his "parents." "Sure, Syb, wot's th'matter?"

Sybil set her jaw. "It's time for me to tell you the truth. I'm not your mom; no, stop laughing, it gets better." Swiftpaw stopped laughing, tilting his head. "Alright, see, twelve seasons ago me and Skip found you and your dead mother not too far from here. She's the nameless hare of Redwall." Sybil pointed to the grave near the west wall. It was, as Sybil called it, the Nameless Hare of Redwall. "Oh, Swiftpaw, I know it's not much information but Martin said-"

"Twelve seasons, eh? Little hare babe and his mom… Tell me, this female, was she a dark brown in color? And her son. Right here… Swiftpaw… By golly, I knew I remembered that bally name, absoballylutely knew I did, wot, can't believe it took me so long…" Redmond had popped up behind Skipper. "You're Slick's son! That dark brown hair was Marisol! And you, m'boy, somehow lived! I'm not sure how, but y'must've been separated. Anyhoo, y'jolly parents went on a mission t'Redwall, t'warn them o'the fox lord Ripear. However, they never reported back, and we never heard of Ripear again, so we figured they told you then, on their bally trip back, must've gotten distracted, eh wot? But thaz all I know, an' it's probly not too jolly well helpful, wot?"

Swiftpaw, Sybil, and Skipper stood there gawking at the hare. He gave them a confused look. "Wot?" Swiftpaw suddenly felt the urge to see his mother's grave, his insides churning from some emotion he had never felt before, and so he took off, with no acknowledgement to the others standing around him.

Upon reaching the grave, Swiftpaw collapsed. Closing his eyes, he began to remember things; his mother's body when he found her, his vow to kill Ripear, even the dream of his dead father and Martin. This was all too overwhelming for the young hare; falling over, he passed out right then and there.

Sybil leaned against Skipper, looking at their "son." Their "family" was an odd one- a hare with a squirrel mother and otter father. Yet the three were more like good friends- Skipper had taught Swiftpaw fighting and Sybil taught him manners. Burying her head in Skipper's shoulder, Skipper pat Sybil's head comfortingly, sighing deeply. "Don't worry, Syb, Swiftpaw's got Martin looking after him." Smiling, he walked over and gathered Swiftpaw up,then, with Sybil walking beside him, brought the hare up to the infirmary for a break.

Swiftpaw awoke to the joyous sounds of a feast. Lying in bed in a stupor, it took a while for realization to sink in, but once it did the hare jumped up, grabbing his head. "Great scots, I nearly forgot about the flippin' feast!" Jumping up, he ran downstairs to join his friends in a feast celebrating Abbess Spyring's birthday. Neary falling down the steps, he burst into Great Hall, all heads turning to him, a great silence suddenly filling the large hall. "Er, sorry there, I know, I know, bad form an' all, wot, ah, hullo, Muther Abbess, marm, wonderful day for a birthday feast, eh wot?"

Swiftpaw stood in complete silence for a moment, but the noise was quickly restored. The old mouse approached Swiftpaw, smiling. "Thank you, my friend, for the nice acknowledgement. May I interest you in some trifle?"

Swiftpaw gladly accepted, wolfing the small portion down in a flash, then excused himself to get some more. After he had filled his plate to the brim, he began to spoon even more food on top of that, fitting an amount that could have easily squeeze onto three plates onto only one. Situating himself between Mitzy and a small mousebabe named Sage, he began to eat noisely and messily. "Mmm, good scoff, wot?"

Two seats down from Mitzy came an eager response. "Yes, rather delicious, ain't it?"

Swiftpaw nearly choked as he glared down at Redmond. "You, sah, have a bad form, almost murderin' a chap like that!"

Redmond grinned. "Well, I'll apologize, being as you're the only son of Slick!"

Swiftpaw groaned, finishing off the last of his food. "Erm, I'm bally full, goin' ta head t'bed now and wot not, g'night!"

Swiftpaw pushed away from the table, patting his stomach. He then stood up and went to bed, dreaming of blue foxes and red squirrels.

***

Din was hopping trees, far from carefully avoiding detection. All the squirrel though of was getting as far away from Ripear as possible. The fox was going "back to Redwall"- Din needed to warn this place, whatever it was, before it was too late! He didn't stop to eat, but instead ate on the run; he never slept until he collapsed, and even then it was for no more than a short-lived nap. He had gotten the directions from random strangers, and now he knew he was out of Riversea and was in Mossflower. Not that it helped him; he was in need of more directions if he was to ever even consider reaching Redwall in time.

Today, however, luck was with Din. In front, or rather, below him was a family of dormice heading south. Dropping down, he turned to them and said in his shaky voice that made him sound like a crazy old otter, "Where is Redwall."

The dormice, taken slightly aback and somewhat scared, all huddled behind their father. Shaking slightly, the old one pointed to his left; west. Nodding his thanks, Din jumped up into the trees and took off once more, the same direction he had been going, a mad fury taking over him as he remembered what had happened to him one season ago when Ripear had taken over and destroyed his village.

Oh how Din hated Ripear. The fox with his son, Blufur, had taken over half of Riversea with a philosophy of, "no slaves, no prisoners, no trouble." The horde had started with 900 beasts, but by now he had neared at the least 9,000. No beast dared to stand up to him, and those that did never lived to tell about it. It was an honor to be in his horde, yet anybeast would be allowed in. Rumors told of vermin from across the sea and land traveled many seasons just to join. Either way, when Din's village was attacked they had no choice but to surrender- and die. Din was the sole survivor, and over hearing that this fox wanted to capture a place called Redwall, Din set out to rescue this place from the horrible fate that would bestow upon it if they didn't know.

Falling out of the tree from weariness, Din decided to take a short break before continuing and, clambering back up into one of the trees, settled down in the snow covered branches of a dormant oak tree.


End file.
